Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

“You’re not breaking your oath to my father,” she said gently. “He wanted you to protect me. At the moment, this is the best way you can do that.”

“It’s a risk, splitting your army. By all reports Korin outnumbers you nearly three to one,” Nyanis pointed out.

“I can move faster with a smaller force. Mahti’s route will save us days.” She turned to the witch. “Can we take horses through there?”

“The way small in places. In other, hard walking up.”

“The Retha’noi don’t use horses. They carry everything on their backs,” Arkoniel told her.

“Then we must do the same, and hope the ’faie arrive in good time.” Tamír frowned down at the map for a moment, then looked up at her lords. “What do you advise?”

“I’d say rely on men-at-arms and archers, for the greater bulk of your force, Majesty,” Kyman replied. “You’ll want horses for reconnoitering, but the fewer we have to find forage for on the way, the better.”

“You could also use what ships you have at Ero,” Illardi suggested.

“They wouldn’t reach us in time to do much good. Keep them here and use them to defend Atyion and Ero. Illardi, you’ll oversee the ships. Jorvai, Kyman, Nyanis: you are my marshals.”

They spent the rest of the day forming their plans. Lytia’s inventories were encouraging; even accounting for the provisioning of Tamír’s army, it would still leave enough that it would take Korin months to starve them out. Two companies would remain in the garrison; two thousand foot and five hundred horse would go with Tharin. The rest, nearly ten thousand of the best foot, archers, and one hundred cavalry, would take the mountain route with Tamír, with Mahti as their guide.

Tamír and the Companions had just entered the hall for the evening meat when Baldus came pelting through the crowd toward her, dodging between startled servants and courtiers.

“Majesty!” he cried, waving a folded piece of parchment in his hand.

He came to a breathless stop before her and bowed quickly. “I found this—under your door. Lady Lytia said to bring it to you at once. He asked her for some clothes—Lord Caliel—”

“Hush.” Tamír took the parchment and opened it, recognizing Caliel’s elegant hand at once.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” said Ki.

Tamír read the brief message through and handed it to him with a resigned sigh. “He’s taking Tanil back to Korin. He wanted to be gone before he could hear our plans.”

“Damn him!” Lutha cried, clenching his fists in frustration. “I should never have left him alone. We’ve got to go after him.”

“No.”

“What? But he’s mad to go back!”

“I gave him my word, Lutha,” she reminded him sadly. “It’s his choice. I won’t stop him.”

Lutha stood a moment, a mute entreaty in his eyes, then stalked away with his head down.

“Tamír?” Barieus said, clearly torn between duty and his friend.

“Go on,” Tamír said. “Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

When the war council was over, Arkoniel took Mahti back to the Orëska hall and gathered the others in the courtyard to make their own plans.

“Hain, Lord Malkanus, and Cerana, I ask you to ride with me. Melissandra, Saruel, Vornus, Lyan, and Kaulin—I give you charge of the castle and the rest of the wizards.” He glanced over at the children, who were huddled together on the grass beside him. Wythnir gave him a heartbroken look. It pulled at Arkoniel’s heart, but there was no help for it.

“I’m to stay behind, but that goes?” Kaulin demanded, jerking a thumb at Mahti, who sat on the grass near the children. “Is he one of us now?”

Arkoniel sighed inwardly. Kaulin was his least favorite among the wizards. “He was guided to Queen Tamír by visions, just like the rest of us. Whether it was by his own gods or ours, he is one of us for as long as he serves her. You were with us in the mountains; you know the debt we owe to Lhel. Honor her by honoring this man. We can no longer let ignorance divide us. However, Kaulin, if you wish to come with me, you are welcome.” He looked around at the others. “All of you are here by choice. All of you are free as always to choose your own paths. I am master to no free wizard.”

Kaulin backed down. “I’ll go with you. I can do a bit of healing.”

“I’d prefer to accompany you, as well,” Saruel said.

“I’ll take her place here,” Cerana offered.

“Very well. Anyone else?”

“You’ve portioned us wisely, Arkoniel,” Lyan replied. “There are enough of us in both places to harm the enemy and protect the innocent.”

“I agree,” said Malkanus. “You have led us well, and you were the closest to Mistress Iya and shared her vision. I see no reason to change things now.”

“I appreciate the fact that you are all still here and willing to support the queen.”

“I suppose Iya had her reasons for leaving, but we’ll surely miss her strength,” Cerana sighed.

“Yes, we will,” Arkoniel replied sadly. He’d told them simply that Iya had finished her part and gone away by her own choice. Tamír needed their loyalty, and those ties were still too tenuous to risk the full truth right now.

“You forgot your sword, Cal,” Tanil noted as they rode north along the high road in the waning dusk. He ducked his head, looking guilty. “I lost mine.”

“It’s all right. We don’t need them,” Caliel assured him.

Tanil had left Atyion willingly, eager to see Korin again. Thanks to Tamír’s generosity, they both had decent clothing and a bit of gold, enough for a pair of horses and food enough for the journey.

“But what if we meet up with the Plenimarans again?”

“They’re gone. Tamír drove them away.”

“Who?”

“Tobin,” Caliel amended.

“Oh—yes. I keep forgetting. I’m sorry.” He was plucking at that severed braid again.

Caliel reached over and pulled his hand away. “It’s all right, Tanil.”

Tanil’s body had recovered, but inside he was broken, leaving him vague and easily confused. Caliel had considered simply taking him away, disappearing, but he knew that Tanil would never cease longing for Korin if he did.

And where would I go that I could forget him?

Caliel didn’t allow himself to dwell on what his own welcome was likely to be at Cirna. He would take Tanil back to Korin, as a last act of duty and friendship.

No , he silently amended. Let my last act be to kill Niryn, and set Korin free .

Bilairy could have him after that, with no regrets.

Nalia had seen very little of Korin since he’d learned of her pregnancy. He did not come to her bed at all any longer—a welcome respite—and spent each day planning and organizing for his war.

Nalia watched the activity in the encampments and the constant coming and goings in the fortress yards below from her balcony. The air was filled with the steady din of armorers and farriers, and the rumble of carts.

She was not forgotten, however. Korin sent her little gifts each day, and Tomara went to visit him each morning with word of Nalia’s health. In those rare moments that he did come to her, he was kind and attentive. For the first time, Nalia actually looked forward to the sound of his step on the stairs.

Korin was not thinking of Nalia as he and his men rode down the switchback road to the harbor. Before he’d come to Cirna, it had been nothing but a tiny fishing village. Over the course of the summer it had been transformed. Rows of makeshift houses, crude taverns, and long barracks houses had sprung up on the steep slope that stretched between the cliffs and the shoreline.

A brisk sea breeze stirred through Korin’s black curls, drying the sweat on his brow. Summer was waning day by day, but the skies were still clear. Duke Morus’ ships rode at anchor in the deep harbor, joined now by more than a dozen others. There were thirty-three in all. Some were little more than large coasting vessels or fishing boats, but he had twenty fine strong carracks, capable of carrying a hundred men each.